


Beneath The Brim

by girlintheglen



Series: Quickies ... Under 1000 Words [11]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-15 02:24:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15402885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlintheglen/pseuds/girlintheglen
Summary: This one is slightly more than 1000 words, but it still fits within the series.





	Beneath The Brim

**Author's Note:**

> This one is slightly more than 1000 words, but it still fits within the series.

 

There was very little on the list of foods found in the world that Illya Kuryakin would not eat, or at least attempt to eat. He had lived on little to nothing during the war, establishing a rule for survival that stated implicitly that one should never turn down a meal, no matter what it was.

The only exception to that rule was when Illya Kuryakin was sick; a roiling in his stomach that threatened to erupt into something vile, the evidence of it in the greenish cast to his normally pale complexion. As his friend and partner looked on, Illya heaved the remaining contents of his stomach over the side of the boat, hopeful that none of it would blow back in their direction.

"Better?" Napoleon Solo was never a victim of motion sickness, and marveled that his almost man of steel partner should be subject to this strange physical reaction to ocean voyages. He'd been in the Soviet navy for cryin' out loud.

"Am I dead?' Napoleon shook his head in the negative, causing a grimace on the Russian's face.

"Then no, I am not better."

Napoleon helped Illya to back away from the railing, sitting next to him in one of the deck chairs. This mission seemed doomed from the start, and the one person they were assigned to contact had missed the boat, literally. Now they were stuck aboard a luxury charter that was heading for a private island off the coast of Connecticut.

A young woman had observed the blond man as he succumbed to the miseries of being seasick. She was wearing a patch to circumvent her own slight symptoms, but the sight of Illya's misery caused her heart to go out to attractive blond. The man with him was equally good looking, although his style was completely different. She didn't wish to intrude but decided to offer her assistance, if any were needed.

"Umm, excuse me…', they both looked up at her.

"I'm sorry to, well… Are you alright?" She was looking at Illya now, struck by the vivid blue eyes returning her gaze.

"Thank you, yes… As well as one might be when victimized by the sea." She heard something beneath his accent, something not quite British. He was smiling at her, suddenly self-conscious at having been observed. Absentmindedly he reached into his jacket pocket and took out a tin of mints, hopeful of settling his stomach and clearing his mouth of the bad taste.

Napoleon stood up, his smile nearly causing her to blush. She was pretty, and she wore a stylishly short orange dress, a mini dress. He thought she had the legs for it as he gave her an almost imperceptible once over.

"I am Napoleon, and my friend here is Illya." Two very handsome men with strange names…

"Are you…' She lowered her voice and moved in closer to them.

"Are you the UNCLE agents?" The men looked at each other and back at the young woman. How would she know about them?

"And who are you?" Napoleon was immediately on guard as Illya stood up and began to scan the deck in both directions.

"Amelia Armstrong. You were supposed to meet my father, but he was in an accident and unable to keep this, umm… rendezvous. He sent me, and I've been waiting for you to contact me.' She looked from one to the other, hoping she hadn't made a mistake.

"Oh, and the code phrase is 'the Wreck of the Hesperus gives me chills'." Illya cut his eyes towards Napoleon, it was the correct phrase.

"Miss Armstrong, how is your father, and where is he?" Napoleon needed a little more to cement his trust in this situation. Illya was on his communicator to Alexander Waverly. By now it should be possible to track down Professor Edmund Armstrong.

"He was hit by a motorcycle that left him in the street with a broken leg. Thankfully nothing more serious, but he was unable to meet you here aboard this boat. He sent me, telling me only that I would be meeting two agents from the U.N.C.L.E.; and he gave me the code phrase to say. I've been all over this boat and you two are the only ones who seemed to match his description of two men together, one of whom would be wearing a green fedora. I saw that one,' Amelia pointed to the one Illya had been wearing before he laid it down and took his position at the railing.  
''… and it just seemed as though it must be the two of you.''

Illya finished his conversation with Waverly and rejoined the one between Napoleon and Amelia Armstrong.

"Professor Armstrong contacted Mr. Waverly just moments ago, to inform him of the incident." Napoleon caught something in Illya's expression but nodded, turning to Amelia.

"Do you have the packet?" That seemed to take her by surprise.

"I thought you were to give me something. Perhaps I misunderstood my father's instructions.'' This wasn't how it had been explained to her, and a sudden suspicion concerning the situation made her want to run.

"You aren't Amelia Armstrong; a close resemblance, but not good enough." Napoleon looked stern now, the smile was gone and the fake Amelia had a bad feeling about what might come next.

"They said it was a game! I was supposed to get a package from two men on this boat and deliver it to the next player. It's all just a game.." That last just petered out, her voice quivering from the fear that was setting in as she considered what might actually be happening. She was on the verge of tears as Illya took her face in his hands and looked into her eyes. She smelled the mint in his mouth, took in the piercing blue of his eyes … the unease began to subside slightly as it was replaced by an almost hypnotic experience. Illya's voice was low and soothing as he asked her name. She felt like she was floating.

"Rhonda. Rhonda Wells." She sighed, felt herself relaxing and then nearly collapsed into his arms.

"And where are you to go after this?" Illya's voice was low, she felt as though she could crawl into it and never come out.

"The Empire State Building. It's just a game."

Napoleon was on his communicator to Waverly with the information. As Rhonda dropped into a restful sleep, Section III agents converged on the Empire State Building in time to rescue Amelia Armstrong and take the THRUSH agents there into custody. The young woman was taken to her father for a happy reunion, in spite of the circumstances.

Rhonda Wells was an innocent who had been duped into a game, or so she thought. After a more thorough session of hypnosis, she would have no memory of her encounter with the two men from UNCLE, although she did develop a new and intense attraction to blond men with blue eyes.


End file.
